the Nightjar
by bellmare
Summary: Uehara's smile broadens by degrees. He thinks of Lilith, the fruit of knowledge gleaming dark and wet in her palms. — Adachi, Sayoko.


**Notes**; a friend wanted Adachi and Sayoko. I delivered. 

. 

In this piece of shit ghost town, there's nobody worth his time.

Inaba's not the city. Everything closes at nine. He can see the stars at night, unclouded by a city's fluorescent haze. Everybody's too friendly - they smile and trade pleasantries, call out "good evening, Tohru-chan" or "morning, Adachi" as they pass.

He's sick of it.

.

More than once, he thinks of taking the bus out of the main town area and to the hospital. Maybe when he has a week off. A day off. It's enough.

He thinks about handing in a fake prescription. Well, it's not entirely fake. After the Tatsumi Port Island thing, after the Apathy Syndrome there's a permanent black mark on his psychiatric record. He's still got the forms somewhere at home, anyway.

Even in a small town like this, he's sure they have something.

Tricyclics. Maybe even olanzepine.

A nurse smiles shrewdly at him when he hovers too long by the pharmacy. "May I help you?" she asks.

He gives her the once-over. Not half bad. Too put-together, too efficient-looking.

A pity, hookers are harder to come by here.

"Oh, no, just having a look around," he says.

.

"Back again?"

It's that nurse. The tag pinned to her uniform reads _Uehara_. Adachi can't quite make out her first name from where he's sitting. He shakes his head and sets down his coffee cup.

"Broke up a fight between some young punks," he says by way of explanation. She eyes his face, taking in the cut on his cheek that's purpling along the edges. "They weren't too happy with being interrupted."

Uehara clicks her tongue. "You should know better," she says.

"Tell that to someone who cares," he replies. Her nails dig into the crook of his elbow as she leads him to the nurses' station.

.

They have drinks together at one point.

It's not so much that as it is a random encounter. She seems at ease, less composed when removed from the stark white hallways of a hospital.

Her hair is very dark, lying loose and straight down past her shoulders. She fits well against the backdrop of the Shiroku pub, her cheeks flushed pink by alcohol and neon-purple lights. Shadows ripple across her cheekbones, her neck; the Shiroku owner's arowana circles its tank in a loose, aimless arc.

Uehara eyes him sidelong. "Coming to bust the joint?" she asks. Adachi watches as she picks the olive out of her drink and slides it off the toothpick with her front teeth. She has a sharp smile, sly and wolfish. Her cuspids dig into the olive.

He averts his eyes as she chews meditatively. "I'm off duty,"

"Is that so."

The only ones out drinking alone are probably the saddest, loneliest bastards out there, the ones with nothing to return to. He wonders if that's true of Uehara. Maybe she's just looking for prey. She seems like the kind. The carnivorous sort, who takes whatever she wants.

Whatever. Those were never his type. He'd much rather be the hunter, instead.

He orders a beer. Uehara orders a shot of whisky. They clink glasses, and drink. The beer bubbles all the way down his throat.

.

It's late. He's supposedly looking in on the Kujikawa stalker, the one Seta's gang roughed up. He's supposed to wrap up his reports, do some interrogation if he needs to.

Not late enough, it seems, for some people. He's seen the kid with Uehara. The kid - Dojima's nephew. He thinks about sidling up to the kid - Seta, or whatever his name is - and herding him off. "Seta, Uehara-san," he says by way of a greeting when he makes his way up to them.

Uehara taps the end of her pen against her clipboard. _Click, click._ "I was just about to check up on the patient," she says. "You can both head off now," she says after she checks her watch. "You shouldn't be going home too late," she adds to Seta. Seta nods and smiles, murmurs something about wanting to do a thorough job.

"You're ten years too early to be making eyes at Uehara," Adachi says casually when they round the corner. Seta wears the arcana of Judgement like a second skin; it doesn't feel like their bond will deepen today. Adachi wonders if the kid knows.

Seta gazes at him with narrowed eyes and laughs shortly. "I won't ruin the market for you, Adachi-san," he says. Adachi wants to punch him right in the face.

Seta smiles, sly and knowing. "She probably won't have time for you, though," he says, dismissive. "Uehara-san's a hard worker. Always busy."

Adachi knows a dig when he hears one. "I'm hurt," he says and makes a show of staggering and clutching his heart. Seta isn't fazed by the act.

It's almost midnight. According to the forecast, it's supposed to rain in a few days. "Say, how about if I gave you a lift home?"

Seta eyes him, weighing the offer. Adachi thinks about driving Seta to his apartment and shoving him into the T.V. Less troublesome that way. At least the self-styled Inaba Mystery Inc. will be out of his hair, maybe. Rudderless without a leader.

"It's fine," Seta says at last. "Maybe give Uehara-san a lift instead. Her shift ends soon, anyway."

.

He drives Uehara home. Uehara hums under her breath, a wordless tune that slides through the air. "Thank you for the ride home," she says.

There is a hint of a sly, husky suggestion in her voice. Adachi tries not to look down her shirt. _I know where you live,_ he thinks about saying. Instead, he smiles - guileless, benign - and says "oh, no, the pleasure was all mine".

Uehara's smile broadens by degrees. He thinks of Lilith, the fruit of knowledge gleaming dark and wet in her palms.

.

The rain's coming. With it, the fog will trickle into town, rolling thick and cold across the ground, past the rooftops, through the windows. Namatame's already dropped Kujikawa into the T.V. It pays to nurture the bonds with the Moon. Alraune purrs at the back of his mind; he's feeling daring tonight, the arcana's lunacy a faint touch against his shoulderblades.

It'd be fun, maybe, to do a little extracurricular activity.

He lingers as Uehara unlocks her door. She glances sidelong at him; her head cants to the side, a coquettish gesture. "Would you like to come in for a warm drink before you go?"

"Sure, why not," he replies.

Her television's small, a boxy, inelegant creature squatting on its shelf. Maybe just enough to fit her in, if he tries hard enough. If he has to, anyway.

He accepts the tea from her; he lets his touch linger, over her knuckles, her hands. Leans in close. "Women like you, Uehara-san ..."

"Sayoko," Uehara says. "Why bother with formalities at this juncture, hmm?"

_Sayoko. _The first syllable is a serpent's hiss.

"Well ... Sayoko, then. I'm surprised you're not married. No boyfriend? No husband?"

"Maybe." Her fingers curl around his tie and she pulls him closer, deepening the kiss. "Maybe. Maybe not." Veiled in playfulness and pretence; she's testing him.

His experiment can wait. Kujikawa can enjoy the company of her other self alone.

.

The next time he's at the hospital is to check up on Kubo.

Dumbfuck kid, Adachi thinks with a surge of viciousness. What is this, middle school and long nights of first-person shooter MMOs with some kid stealing his kills? Maybe he should cart Kubo to one of the premier rooms when nobody's around, throw him right back into a T.V. there.

He'll just say he was taking the kid for a walk, didn't want whatever stringbean muscles he had to atrophy even more. To hell with it; he'll never unlock the full potential of the Hermit, tenuous bonds with whiny kids be damned.

Uehara sets Kubo's file back in place and says, "you won't get much out of him in this state."

"Why d'you care so much?" he asks Uehara. "This kid's a murderer, you know."

Uehara doesn't say anything for a long time. He thinks she's not going to answer. "Uh, it's okay, don't mind m-"

"I swore to help people. Anyone I can," she says. "isn't that why you joined the police, too? To protect and to serve, things like that."

He says, "I guess", and finishes his coffee. It burns his tongue, though he barely feels it going down.

.

Nanako Dojima's return from the Midnight Channel has a ripple effect.

Vaguely, he regrets his part in it enough for its effect on Nanako; on Dojima; on Uehara. Maybe not Seta. There's something that gives him vindictive amusement at seeing Seta at the hospital every day after school, checking up on his cousin.

His bonds have gone stagnant since the beginning of November. Judgement, Justice, the Devil. The Hermit faded from his life months ago, when the Kubo case was wrapped up. Good riddance.

What he didn't account for is Uehara consoling Seta; Uehara checking up on him every few hours, herding him towards the nurses' station for hot tea, coffee, whatever. Uehara telling him to go home, that she'll inform him of any changes.

"Didn't know you were so close to Dojima-san's nephew," Adachi says.

Uehara doesn't smile. "He's been a good friend to me. He's supported me before, when I needed it most; I'm just returning the favour. It's the least I can do."

He thinks about the phrase. _Good friends_. What does it even mean. He doubts he and Seta could be considered _good friends_. Not when mind games are being played, not when he's just been keeping at playing nice just so he can break Seta further. _If_ he's found out. When he's found out.

_And what are we, then_, he wants to ask Uehara.

.

The next evening, Adachi asks Uehara, "do you want to leave Inaba?"

She stifles a yawn. She's on a break, halfway through her shift. Tiredness rings her eyes. "I was thinking about it," she says.

"Oh?"

"I'll probably be transferring hospitals soon, anyway. But, maybe sometime later - I'd like to go elsewhere. I want to see the world, and help whoever I can along the way."

"How noble of you." He rolls his wrist; the cold coffee at the bottom of the paper cup sloshes unpleasantly. "But, I mean, if you wanted to, say, go to a different world. Would you?"

"What are you saying?"

A shadow falls over his shoes. Well, look who the cat dragged in. Seta's gang arrays itself cautiously behind him. Shirogane is the only one that doesn't fidget with a nervous, restless energy.

Adachi glances up to meet Seta's eyes and smiles. Uehara checks her watch. "I'll leave you to it," she says.

He turns to Seta and spreads his arms. "What can I do for you today?" he asks.

.

It's bullshit to be bested by a bunch of teenagers. Probably even more bullshit that they didn't choose to kill him.

Uehara's eyes widen in surprise when he's wheeled into the emergency department.

"Long time no see," he says.

.

He drifts in and out of consciousness for a while.

The drugs, the aftereffects of duking it out with Seta's crew and their personas - it makes him remember things.

Tatsumi Port Island, and an endless tower that reaches into the green-bellied clouds. A yellow moon casts sickly light on his shoes.

There are shadows there, too.

Vague, indistinct, amorphous. They shape into the figure of a woman. Uehara. A snake coils around her shoulders. Serpent and devil; their eyes are shadow-gold, brilliant amber against the green of the Dark Hour.

The fruit of knowledge, clasped in Uehara's fingers. The seed of Lilith's fall. "The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed," she says. She slides a card into his hands. The Devil, upright. The ghostly purple arcs of a mamudoon appear beneath him. He runs.

The Tower of Demise. Tartarus. He's running along checkerboard floors. Blood seeps down the walls, puddles on the floor. His shoes skid and slide along the tiles; the blood is gummy, congealing, slowing him down.

Thebel, the second earth. The shadows grasp blindly at him as he passes. This isn't Magatsu Inaba; it isn't the world that bends to his will.

Arqa, the dark land where no light falls. Yabbashah, its springs flowing through the windows. When he follows their paths they return to the lower floors, the water bleeding red.

Tziah, gold and dry earth. The drought of greed. "Reflect on your revelations," Uehara says.

Harabah; the parched land. Adamah, where light reflects from the sky. Uehara awaits him at the top of the tower. Lightning arcs through the clouds beyond her. Maziodyne. How insulting. He can do better than that.

He calls Magatsu Izanagi on instinct; his persona doesn't respond.

They say when you die in your dreams, you die in reality.

He calls Magatsu Izanagi over and over but nothing comes. Something ruptures within him and he coughs gobbets of bloody phlegm onto his hands. Uehara cradles his head in her hands; the serpent drapes itself around his neck, winds around his shoulders and back over hers. Uehara pinions him to the roof of the tower with scalpels through his wrists. He can appreciate the clean precision; the coldness of surgical steel sliding against his bones.

Something presses against the side of his head. He turns, whips his head around. The barrel of Seta's gun slips against his forehead. Seta stares down at him. He's wearing an armband, red as murder and bloodshed.

Seta pulls the trigger and something breaks; not bone, but glass.

Magatsu Izanagi roars.

.

He awakens to someone checking his IV stand.

"You're awake," Uehara says.

He makes a sound. If he tries really hard, it sounds vaguely like, "'m alive".

Uehara pats his hand. "I'm glad you woke up today. Otherwise, I'd have left a note."

His mouth sounds like it's full of cotton wool. "Huh?" he slurs and licks his teeth. He wonders what's the date today.

"I'm being transferred soon," Uehara says. "Goodbye, Adachi. And thank you for your company."

.

_(The Nurse Social Link has reached its maximum level! By mastering the Devil Social Link, you can now fuse Lilith, the Night Queen!)_


End file.
